Page 164 of Fallacies

He glances at the empty cell behind him, lost to some memory. “The night of the attack, Esme was in the library. She told me she’d fallen asleep at one of the desks and woke up to the chaos.” Grey tightens his jaw, turning back to me. “Your father found her. Esme said he figured out that she was a Van Reenan, but he told his men she was just a scribe. A Diviner.”

Round her up with the others. She’s just a scribe.

My father said those words in the dream I had the other night. I remember it vividly—the pain, the mask obstructing his face, the empty shelves and discarded books…

“Are you okay?” The realization must be evident on my face. “Lucina?”

“Yes,” I force out, no real depth to the answer. “Keep going.” I can’t put the pieces together until Grey gives me some that fit.

He remains concerned, light eyes searching my face for some kind of permission. When I remain quiet, he decides to continue, “Esme was put in here with me, and for a few days no one came down here. Not a single Sol or Rogue. All of us were completely in the dark—physically and emotionally.” He glances at the cages behind me, smiling weakly at whoever looks back at him. “Eventually, our food rations came. Then buckets, mats, cheap bedding. Esme and I did everything we could to get answers out of the guards and servants. We yelled, screamed, tried for magic that these chains wouldn’t allow us.” He lifts his shackled wrists, and my heart aches at the clang they make against the bars. “Nothing worked.”

“You never figured out what they were keeping you here for?”

Grey shakes his head. “They’ve called us Captures and Slaves. Slaves to what? I don’t know. These cages, maybe.”

Callan had told me about Iris’s deathbed confession. Her final word was slaves, and he assumed there was more to it—a reason for all of them being kept alive. But according to his father, slave was just something they’ve been called.

But it doesn’t make sense. Surely, there’s a reason. Why waste twenty-plus years of resources keeping all of them alive without an ulterior motive?

“One night,” he starts again, nodding to the exit behind me, “that door opened, and Kage Tenebrus walked through it. Everyone else had mercifully found sleep, but Esme and I rarely could. He made his way down to our cell, but Kage didn’t want anything to do with me. The only person he wanted to talk to was your mother.”

Grey watches my face for a reaction, but I’m too lost to give one.

“Esme, though,” he scoffs, a smile cracking his dried lips, “she loathed him. Granted, we all did—for what he’d done to our home and our people—but Esme…nothing about him scared her. It was all anger.” Grey shakes his head, amusement fading. “Until it wasn’t.”

My eyes widen.

“Kage began to visit every night. He’d only talk to Esme, and he hated when I eavesdropped. At first I thought he was trying to get something out of her, but in the conversations I was able to catch, I began to realize that he was…fascinated by her.”

“Chiaros,” I curse.

Grey huffs. “Yeah.”

I knew there had to be more to my parents than hatred. I mean…Solian children are rare, and Solian-Rogue Hybrids are unheard of. Mixed blood or not, my creation was gods-blessed. I figured love was completely off the table, but something had to have been there. The Matrons wouldn’t have allowed me into this world without reason.

“I told her not to engage, but your mother was far too stubborn to listen. Looking back, though, I’m glad she didn’t,” he confesses. “Because somewhere along the line, their heated arguments turned into heated discussion. A debate between two people with opposing views and Esme…” Grey shakes his head, as if he still can’t believe it—even now. “She won. Somehow she got through to him. Got him to see the depravity in Alaric’s rule, and the error in the part he played in taking Streatham. Their conversations drifted from two clashing views on the situation to…talk of repairing the damage that had been done.” Grey snorts. “I couldn’t fucking believe it.”

Neither can I.

“She had a way with words,” he tells me. “Esme orchestrated this entire thing from right here.” Grey points to the empty space beside him. “From inside the godsdamn cage he put her in.”

The feeling rolling through me isn’t like anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s regret, sympathy, and pride all mashed together. My body doesn’t know how to digest it, and my brain can’t keep up. So much of it still doesn’t make sense.

“Then why are you all still here?” I ask him. “If Kage really had seen the error in his ways, then why didn’t he just let her out? Let all of you out?”

Judging by the look on his face, he’s already asked himself these questions. Many times.

“According to Esme, he was going to. Freeing us was part of their plan. But for the first few years after Streatham fell, Alaric came up to rule it. With the King overseeing everything, Kage couldn’t risk freeing us while his father was in Streatham. He managed to get us more food, thicker blankets, anything he could smuggle in that would make it more bearable, but getting us out became step two.” Grey looks at me, familiar eyes staring straight into mine. The resemblance between him and Callan is truly remarkable. “And you became step one.”

The dungeon had already quieted, but the silence that follows his words is heavier. Louder, somehow.

“Me?” I whisper back, and when he nods, I shake my head. “How?”

At his hesitance, I get the sinking feeling that whatever he’s about to tell me is going to be…shocking. An answer to a question I’m not sure I’m ready to hear.

“Before Streatham fell,” Grey starts, “Esme was training for the position she would inherit from her mother. The process of becoming the Dame included a lot of requirements and obligations—things Esme was expected to participate in. One of the duties Sable had assigned to her was…overseeing efforts in breaking the curse.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.